


Death Eternal

by VioletHellfire



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Gore, Jamie is an asshole, Kissing, Love/Hate, M/M, McCree has a short fuse, Mild Gore, Undead, Vampire!McCree, Zombie, dead, vampire, zombie!junkrat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26987563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletHellfire/pseuds/VioletHellfire
Summary: "Inside this coffin made for two,I will be waiting here for you."--Calabrese
Relationships: Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes/Jesse McCree
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Death Eternal

"So... is the cowboy schtick real, or are you just into the aesthetic?" he asks, glasses sliding down his nose, as he sips more from the oversized glass in front of him.

"'Course it's real!" he exclaims, a smirk plastered on his face, "Can't ya smell the cowshit on him?" A bubble of laughs tumbles out of his mouth as if he's just said the funniest thing, as he leans back into the booth.

"Jamie, please." he says, with an almost apologetic grin on his face, turning to the other, "It's...an aesthetic. Grew up in the country, and that's kinda how things are. I think it suits me fine, though. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Well..." he started, hesitating, eyes darting down for a second before continuing, "...actually, yeah. It...all of it...looks good on you." he shifted in his seat, awkward about the admission.

"Ha! See, Jesse?" Jamie barked in, "Blokes fer all types! This one likes you, _and_ your stink!" he tittered, grin stretched wide.

"Jamie--"

"I...um...I'll be back. Bathroom." he said, standing up, something like amused embarrassment radiating off his body as he gingerly adjusted his glasses again and slid away. 

Jesse looked over at his companion, eyes flat.

"What?"

"You know what."

"Tch..." he ceeded, forming half a frown. "Mate, I'm bored. And I'm _starvin_ '. What else ya want me to do?"

"So go home." Jesse said, twirling the toothpick in his mouth. "You're certainly a'int helping here. And you _know_ I'm not going back empty-handed tonight."

Jamie threw his head back dramatically, letting a small whine out. "Can't you just--"

"No. No I can't 'just'. You know that." he paused. "Isn't there some leftovers you can--"

"No! They're all gone! 'Sides, they'd be kind of off by this point, anyway."

"I thought you _liked_ fermented food." he said, smirk returning.

"Fermented and rotten are two different things, cowboy!" he said, voice raised but not angry. 

Jesse snickered, gently swirling the glass in front of him. 

"Ugh...fine. I'm out." Jamie said, sliding out of the booth, "I swear t'god though, if you're not home before sun up--"

"I got a watch. Don't you worry your pretty head none." he followed it with a small wink.

"Yeah, well. New Orleans happened, didn't it?" he didn't wait for an answer, he simply waved and left.

Jesse sat back into the red plastic seat, fingers idly drumming on the tabletop, facade falling slightly. New Orleans _did_ happen. New Orleans...shouldn't have happened, though. He was old enough to know better. And yet...

It was a long night, he remembered. He made his way to the bar, found a pretty redhead with carmine lips and thick thighs that reminded him of Valencia oranges, sunny, sugary, and definitely a little tart. She was on her way home after a long night at work but decided to stop in, swill whatever stresses she had away, maybe do some dancing. He saw her the moment she sat down, milking a bourbon, flicking used peanut shells across the bartop that never seemed to get cleaned. He took no time in introducing himself. She took no time in eyeing him up for the night. 

She was fun, for sure. They left, arm in arm, and headed back. His place, of course. It was late, though. Much later than it usually was. A fact that he was unaware of until they started walking. He remembered feeling dizzy as he held her upright, stumbling as best as they could, whispering, laughing, oblivious to the world. They were just down the street when she tripped. He sat with her. Then the sky began to get milky, with the rising sun. His head started to feel heavy, like an overfilled balloon, and all he wanted to do was stop the corners of black from entering his vision. At one point, she passed out. His skin prickled. And then he heard Jamie's voice...

Jesse winced at the memory. Jamie was angry. He had every right to be. And the look on his face was something he didn't really want to keep. But, he did. As a reminder. 

He would never admit it, though. Never. Jesse swore he was more trouble than it was worth, sometimes. He could count on both hands the times he'd go home alone because Jamie insisted on coming along, then he would almost instantly get itchy, and start climbing the walls. He could still smell the putrid burning from the cherry bomb he tossed carelessly into a dumpster just outside the music hall a few years ago...

Jesse sighed, tapping his finger arrhythmically on the glass in front of him. He was a pain in the ass for sure. But--

"Oh...your friend left?" The man with the glasses asked, sliding back into the booth. It was more of a polite question than an actual inquiry. 

Jesse tilted his head, smile spreading across his face once again.

"He did. Said the night was gettin' to him. But uh...that just leaves more for us, now don't it?"

The man couldn't help but let a small smile break on his face as he went back to his drink, eyes pointed down, as if he was trying hard to not give himself away but failing miserably at it. 

At least this one was gonna be easy.

\---

"You're feisty, ain't ya?" Jesse said, voice low but with a touch of teasing, hands slowly sliding over the fabric of the man's shirt. It was all he could do to brace himself against the mai tai scented kisses the man was leaving all around his neck and just under his jaw. His back bumped against the front door to his house, old wood gently squeaking as he did.

"You're so cute..." The man muttered, hands scrabbling to wherever they could touch. 

"Cute or not, I have to open the door." Jesse said, with an audible grin. 

The man took a step back and huffed, a small, awkward but delighted look to him. "S-sorry. I just--"

"No need ta apologize." Jesse said, simply turning the knob, letting it swing wide, "I _like_ 'em feisty."

They walked forward only a few steps before he was on him again, kisses smearing down all over any skin just above his shirt collar. Jesse simply tugged at his hips, guiding him as he walked backward toward the couch, slow, almost waddle-like, his mouth not once leaving him as they did. His thigh hit the arm of it, nearly knocking him over, that slightly dizzy feeling creeping up on him again. 

He gently separated from the man just inches away, before turning them both around. Jesse pushed him down on the pale-colored furniture, and he landed with a cushioned flop, the sound of feathers and other soft batting puffing under him. The man couldn't help but stare after, so far gone in his own mind that just that act alone seemed to have more weight to it than it should. He wanted him and wanted him badly.

Jesse popped a few of the top buttons of his shirt open as he climbed on top, denim-covered leg swinging over, tucking between the body underneath and the couch just adjacent. He leaned in, head swirling with the motion, hand holding the others face, hovering just near his ear, taking a small nibble just at his lobe. 

The man melted slightly, excited breath rushing from his lungs, eyes squinting from the sensation. 

"D'ya like that?" Jesse asked, almost whispering.

"Yes!" he said, then trying to keep himself in check but failing again, "I-I mean...I do. _God_ , I do."

Jesse nipped at his lobe again, and something bordering on a moan left the man's mouth, almost involuntarily. With lazy passes, he traced small lines and circles with his tongue going from the other's ear, little wet swirls dragging over the slight pop of muscle, warmed skin reacting to every touch, every movement. Jesse's beard brushed his collarbone as he went, and the man couldn't help but squirm under it all. 

"I...I've never ridden a cowboy before..." The man said, getting a little breathless.

Jesse nudged in closer, muted snort brushing past the already damp skin. He dragged his front teeth down that same trail, causing the other to catch his breath and hold it, faint shiver dancing over his face. He bit his lip in response, trying with what he could to not completely lose it. 

"Jesse..." he breathed, head swimming. The man popped Jesse's thumb into his mouth and started to suck on it, in some vain attempt to ground himself. Jesse moved his thumb in and out as a response, leaving little nips where his teeth previously were, licking a fat stripe all the way back up before doing it all over again. 

The man attempted to say his name again but he couldn't, muffled by the waves of intensity he felt, and only a nasal mewl remained when he tried. Jesse pushed his thumb in deeper, the pad of it brushing against his tongue, callouses sliding against it all with no resistance. The man felt so malleable, so loose, so eager, so wanton under his hands. 

He was ready.

"Gonna make you feel real good now, Darlin'..." Jesse purred, right against his ear. He withdrew his thumb from the other's mouth, slowly, before taking the man's face in his hands and turning his head further. He exhaled over the skin, nipping down, lower, lower, reaching the curve where his shoulder met his neck, laving, kissing, touching...

The man waited, with shuddering anticipation, and then...he felt something. Something different, something bordering on pain, but not quite. He then felt his head start to float away, a rush of downy fluff flooding his brain, as all thought seemed to drain from his head in a flash. His hands weakly crawled up Jesse's back, faintly threading through his hair, as he was taken further, higher, the street lights from the outside window becoming strangely bright and pale, shaky breaths coming in closer and closer. His skin was on fire, and he swore he couldn't feel his toes anymore, up, up, swirling, spiraling, lifting, flying...

"'Bout goddamn time..." came a voice from just beyond the couch. He sat next to where the two of them were with a soft thud, followed by the sound of something large and made of glass settling next to him.

The voice grabbed the man's arm, still faintly trying to hold on to Jesse's hair, grip weak and barely there, and pulled it off to the side, letting it hang. The sharp click of a switchblade made the man turn his head, but he couldn't see anything other than a blur of pale and blonde. The blade made contact just below the elbow, cold metal piercing without resistance, and dragged its way down to the wrist, a clean line of red and skin blossoming out, blood pouring from the folds of newly exposed veins. 

The man weakly tried to resist, but at that point, he was gone, so far gone. His other hand gently pawed at Jesse's head, closed hand barely tapping the side of his face, hand sliding down and spent from just a few swipes. He couldn't move and he couldn't speak, no matter how much he tried. He started to feel cold, and that same hazy light from before started to fade, his consciousness following rapidly on its tail... 

The voice held the arm right over the glass container, letting the steady trickle flow, an almost chime-like musical trill following as it filled, steady, and easy. It was the only sound in the room for several minutes, background noise to the otherwise quiet room, the soft lull lush in the air. 

Jesse sat up, head pointed toward the ceiling, dragging his sleeve over his now stained mouth. "Heart's stopped." 

The voice unceremoniously swatted the arm away. "Cuttin' it close again, mate."

"I made it though, didn't I?" he said, adjusting himself, so he was sitting on his heels and the thighs of the new corpse under him. "Not like you were exactly helpin' back there, Jamie."

"Oh, _please_." he balked. "The guy was ready on hour one. Would'a given ya a gobbie under the table if he could. I dunno why you didn't jus' go for it then." he paused. "Can I have mine, now?" he said, pointing to what remained of the body on the couch.

Jesse slid off the cooling form underneath and stood. "You know why." he said, plainly.

"Right, right...ethics and all that." Jamie said, waving his hand as if he was already done with the conversation. He held out the partially filled flower vase to Jesse, blood sloshing up the side a little as he did.

"We didn't have cups?" he asked, taking it in hand.

"Since when do we use bloody cups?" Jamie asked, but then paused, tiny giggle working its way out. He didn't mean for the pun, but found it amusing nonetheless.

Jesse leaned against the nearby wall, watching as Jamie dragged the body to the floor, mismatched hands tugging at its spoiled shirt, alarmingly bright red streaks following wherever his neck touched. It landed on the rug just underneath, dull thud sounding almost as if he dropped an object, something akin to a pair of boots being tossed to the side, careless and inconsequential. He climbed on top of the corpse and sat on its hips, switchblade in hand, and began tearing at the shirt the man wore, the flimsy thin layers tearing easily away. 

Chest exposed, he drove the blade down and deep, slicing a strip of flesh just under the ribcage, down the center, stopping just above the navel. Whatever remaining blood left in the body flowed easily out in ruddy ribbons and strings of pearls, falling on either side of Jamie's legs, painting them in garish hues, seeping through the fabric above his knees. He dove both hands inside.

Jesse swilled from the vase, watching as the body jerked each time as something was pulled from the inside. There was a squelching, mushy wet sound, and something lingering behind it like an inaudible tear, before Jamie sat up again, broad grin across his face as he tossed the switchblade to the side. In his hands, he held up a chunk of something about the size of his fist, a blob of muscle and sinew, faint patches of yellowed white peeking through the remaining viscera. 

Jamie brought it to his mouth and tore into it instantly.

Jesse watched idly as the other seemed to thoroughly enjoy what was in front of him, eyes closed and serene looking as he took down the organ in hand, each bite and rip coming easily enough. 

"You even chewing that?" he asked, fully knowing that he was, but barely.

"'Course." he said, mouth full, "But ya gotta eat it warm. It's the best part!"

Jesse snorted. "If you say so."

Jamie shoved the last bit into his mouth, and nearly swallowed it whole, tongue darting out to grab the bits by the corners of his mouth. He then hopped up further on the body, landing with a slight bounce, taking the man's face in his good hand. He grabbed the thick pair of glasses the man wore and tossed them to the side like he was trying to skip them across water that wasn't there. 

"Gotta eat the squishy bits when the body is fresh..." he said, digging his mechanical hand into one of the sockets where its eyes sat, wrist twisting before it became loose enough to pull, "...'cept for the brain. That tastes better around day 3 or so. Gets a...a...a musk to it. Like cheese." he said, popping the eyeball in his mouth like an overripe cherry. 

"Just so long as you eat 'em this time." Jesse said, tipping the last of the blood back into his mouth. Any dizziness he had before was long gone now, and he felt very much what he imagined the desert was like after a rainstorm. He licked his teeth with a faint hum, relishing in the aftertaste. 

"Ey. Not my fault, mate." he said, plucking the other eye out, tossing it back just the same, "Last one you brought home was _huge_. Nearly broke me damn knife just getting inside 'em. And undead or not, there's only so much I can actually eat in one sitting."

"You told me you never had a big one before. Thought I'd just indulge ya." he said with a smirk.

"Big and whatever size _they_ were are two very different things, ya drongo." he said only partially scolding. He scooted back down and dove back into the corpse again, more tugging, more wet shifting, more pulling. At this point, he was covered in more blood than not, but he didn't seem to mind or even notice. 

"Shame we gotta throw the couch away now. I was kinda likin' it."

"Well, we wouldn't have ta, if you had just decided to fuck on the floor." he said, pulling out something that looked vaguely like a right triangle in shape. He gingerly tested a bite before pulling away with an, 'Ooh, fruity!' under his breath.

"Now, hold on. We weren't fuckin'. And the floor is _hard_."

"Oh, boo hoo! Gotta bite me victims on the cheap rug that's easily disposed of!" Jamie said, getting further into his piece, "Look...I like burnin' things down mate, but the neighbors are gonna get suspicious. This is the fourth one since we moved in. The bedbug excuse only goes so far."

"Well...what about the plastic?"

Jamie cackled. "You complain about the floor, but not the weird sticky plastic?" he asked, taking the last bit into his mouth, chewing almost thoughtfully. "Ya serious?"

"Well..." 

Jamie shook his head, not letting Jesse think about it. "No. Just...no. I know yer like 100, or whatever, but fer fucks sake, man. Be _decent_ ta yer victims at least."

He took his good arm and wiped it across his face, in some vague attempt to get whatever was hanging off his chin, cerise colored bits of viscera sticking to even the slightest hairs. It did little other than to smear the blood further, streaks covering his face and whatever skin that wasn't already coated in what remained of the man on the floor. He flicked his arm once, much like how someone might do to shrug a fly off their shoulder, dark crimson speckles and globules flying off as he did. 

Jesse mildly grimaced at the act. It wasn't so much that he was covered in blood...that was to be expected by this point whenever he brought someone home. And, he supposed, for someone of the undead, it was hard not to be. But there was something...something more vicious about the way he took his share, the ripping, the slicing, the nondescript chunks of human in various shades of pink and purple. For a moment, he missed the days when he would just lure someone into an alley, bite them and run. But only for a moment. Because honestly, was what he did really any different than what humans do to animals? 

Jesse snorted, setting the vase down. Figures a zombie would have him thinking philosophically. And, he didn't want to admit it, but it was nice not having to worry about the bodies. People were less suspicious now that the corpses weren't just propped up on a wall and left out in the open. It was almost enough to put up with how obnoxious he could be at times. Almost.

"Ok. Let's check the ID." Jamie said, patting Jesse's former date for pockets, digging into every one he found with the deftness of a thief.

"Jamie...can we not?" Jesse asked, sounding like it was going to ruin his night. 

"Aw, c'mon. It's fun!" Jamie said, finally finding what he was looking for in the man's left back pocket. He stopped for a moment and looked down, wiping almost fruitlessly at what he had in his hands on a corner of his shorts. "Ey, look, he was a weeb!" he said, holding up the plastic zippered bifold with a blonde boy standing next to a mecha. 

"Jamie--"

"No, we do this. You know _why_ we do this..." he said, tossing a few plastic cards on the floor, joined shortly by an imprinted penny, "...gotta keep a beat on things. Gotta be ready."

Before Jesse could reply, Jamie made an 'ah-ha' sound, holding the ID in the air for a moment before reading it. 

"Andrew J. Moreno. Non-drivers ID...interesting. Born February 17th--hey, he was only 23!" Jamie said, looking up. "Thought you said he was older?"

"He _told_ me he was older." Jesse said, in half a mutter.

Jamie giggled. "And you believed him?"

"What, was I supposed to check it?" Jesse asked, annoyed.

"Ya could of. God knows his eyes never left ya." he paused. "Ethics, huh?" he asked, slightly sardonic.

Jesse fixed him with a hard, flat look, jaw set.

"Know what I think?" Jamie asked, standing up, taking the few steps over to where the other stood, "I think ya knew." he said, with a smirk.

Jesse stared intensely, top lip threatening to curl. 

Jamie's grin grew wider as he got closer. " _I_ think...ya knew, and went with it anyway. Ya went with it because you like it...you like 'em young. 'S how _we_ met after all, isn't it? What was it you told me at the bar back in Oz?"

"Stop it."

"I told ya I was 25. Told ya I wasn't sure about myself. Told ya things were confusin'. And then you smiled at me. Offered me another drink. Told me not to worry. And then you told me..." he leaned in, right next to Jesse's ear "...I'm your huckleberry."

"That was different, and you know it!" he snarled.

"Was it? Was it really? Ya told me ya smelt death on me later, but that don't mean nothin'. Ya were still gonna take me home. Still gonna kiss me. Still gonna touch me. Still gonna plant those fangs a'yours on my neck. 'N if ya didn't try to get a sample in the bathroom with yer hand up my shirt, you would of."

" _Stop_ it."

"Me. 25. Alone. Scared."

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't detach your jaw right now."

"Because you need me. Because you chose me. Because I'm still 25. And you still want me." 

  
Jesse clenched his jaw tight, indignation and anger written well across his face. All at once, he looked like he wanted to push Jamie away, or start swinging, or start shouting or start...doing anything, really. But he wouldn't. Because that's what Jamie wanted. Jamie wanted him to be angry. Jamie wanted him ruffled. This is how he was. 

Jesse took a beat to himself to remind the better part of who he was that Jamie was just an asshole sometimes. It was always like this. Something would set him off, and the night would end in some form of chaos, be it physical or verbal. 

It never stayed that way, though. He knew. 

"You still stink of death, zombie. Why don't you go take a shower?" he said, lips pulled back like he wanted to spit it at him.

Jamie got in closer, close enough that he could breathe right on him, had he any earthly reason to do so, and leaned in again, propping himself on the wall just behind Jesse.

"Admit it, cowboy..." he said, raising a finger to his mouth and licking it, "...this? You love it. The smell of blood. The smell of a new kill. The smell of me covered in all of it. Like a goddamn appetizer."

"Keep tellin' yerself that."

"I don't have to. I know you...I've seen the way your eyes glow when you feed, and the way you look like you just came when all the blood finally his you. Like how you looked just a bit ago. An' how you still look like it now."

"Fuck you." he said, giving Jamie a little shove. It did nothing.

Jamie tittered. "I know you do."

"Get off'a me!" Jesse stated, trying to put more bite into it. He shoved Jamie again, and still, he didn't move.

"Admit it."

"I'm not admitting a damn thing to you. It ain't there."

"'S not what you said last week." he said, smirking.

"Get off."

"No."

"Get. _Off_."

Jamie snickered.

"If you don't back the hell up right now, I'm--"

"You'll what? I'm already dead, love. What're ya gonna do?"

Jesse grabbed Jamie by the front of his shirt, material twisting, anger building, violence just on the tip of his mind. He bared his blood-stained whites, low hiss weaving through sharp fangs, a scowl on his face and tension building. He pulled down, bringing him almost at eye level, hard staring deep into the face that he wanted to desperately wanted to break. That spectral skin, those hollowed cheeks, the gold in his mouth that glinted with his smirk and the amber that burned beneath his brows...he hated it. Right now, he hated all of it. He wanted to bury him, break his nose, make him spit teeth. His other hand clenched, the tight coil of something strained rippling beneath his skin, an overwhelming urge like an overwound spring just waiting for the moment to lash out. 

How dare he. How _dare_ he. 

And yet...

He flexed his grip. Brought him as close as he could. And then...he kissed him. Crashing, impatient, and without any grace or form. There was something behind it, behind all of it that smoldered and churned, something dark, something merciless and borderline baneful. He couldn't control it. He didn't want to though. 

"Fuck you." he muttered between desperate passes, edge still whispered in between words.

"Was that so hard?" Jamie asked, low and restless, but with an audible smile behind it all. 

Jesse jerked the shirt once as if giving a fair warning, as he dove down again, lips acting faster and more aggressive than words could ever. His other hand slid up the blood-stained shirt the other was wearing, fingers coarsely feathering back down, only to come crawling back up again with the remnants of everything said and unsaid making his fingers stretch, curl and stretch again as his palms coasted off the slick from their earlier meal.

Jamie grunted, short, but it still held his assent. He let both of his hands rest on the other's hips, thumbs mirroring what was being done to him, up, down, and back again, now and then pressing the flesh just beneath, feeling the pull of skin, dragging, drawing, taking. He tasted like copper and cheap fruit, like an after-party gone wrong, but he couldn't stop coming back, savoring, drinking, melding into it, the tang of something foreign on an already familiar tongue. It was intoxicating, in ways he couldn't describe.

Jesse let himself part for only a moment, before kissing at Jamie's jawline, pecks and nips interspersed with heavier presses, that same internal push and pull coming out in mixed affections. Part of him wanted to push on, and bruise the skin with his lips, take his blood-soaked undead husk between his teeth, nicking, biting, but never drawing any in. He wanted it to sting, he wanted it to be sharp, he wanted him to know.

  
Yet still, part of him wanted to go slow, wanted to slide down his neck, wanted to trace gentle sweeps over anything he could touch, dancing, feeling, wanting, the twine of long-lost heat rising to meet each of his affections, the fury of soul imbibing lucidity, fires stoked and brought together, in a turbulent whirl of passionate belonging. 

He didn't want to admit it. He absolutely didn't want to admit it. Admitting it would mean he opened himself up, he let his guard down. And he couldn't do that. Not with who he was. Not with who he had been. He had been alone, even as a human so many years ago, and it always served him well. When had it become like this? When had he slipped? When did he come to where he depended on someone, welcomed their presence, or even thought about who they were? 

Jesse let his grip loosen for a moment before wrapping his fingers tight again, that same feeling rolling through his body. He let the tips of his fangs drift over the skin between Jamie's neck and shoulder, tongue sliding out to soothe whatever surface scratches he might leave. 

Jamie breathed out, brusque but full, welcoming the darts he felt from the nape down to his chest, as he closed his eyes, and let his head drift slowly to the opposite side. 

  
"Careful, love..." he muttered, nose brushing against his ear. His thumbs had stopped moving when he was moved himself, and they sat, idly hooked over the worn-soft pair of denim in front of him. "...heart's stopped long ago."

Jesse slowed, as the memory of the night they first met came bounding back in. It was like this. Just like this. Jamie was bent over the sink, palms on either side, head pointed down, open, welcoming, vulnerable, pliant. Jesse had his hands on his hips, and then he slithered both of them under the ratty tank top the other wore, fingers tracing over his spine, making faint lines over his abs, outlining the grooves of his ribs, before finding the faint valley of his chest. He peppered kisses up his back, hand flat against his skin, waiting, trying to count the beats between his fingers...

...he remembered Jamie making a faint noise, one that was almost a cross between acceptance and rejection, as he bowed his back into Jesse, eyes screwing shut. He could feel the vibration of his voice, the slight shuddering of his arms, the tension and confusion in his body, even the erratic rise and fall of breaths that were too slow, too shallow. But not what he was looking for. And it would never be there. The scent of death he was carrying was one he had already gone through, not one that was to come.

He paused, looking up into the mirror above them. Jamie was already staring back.

_"Know what I think? I think ya knew."_

_"Careful, love. Heart's stopped long ago."_

He didn't want to admit it at all. But he knew better.

Jesse sank his teeth deep into the skin below him, fangs pushing through like he was made of delicate paper, ribbons of blackened blood ebbing from its edges. He stood stiff, letting it flow out and around but never in, as his own venom poured through, filling, imbuing, staining from within.

Despite their strange history together, he cared for him. 

It might even border on something like love.

Jamie curled into it, soft cry murmured into the folds of cotton he clung to, relishing in the sudden pain as it slowly faded into a cool burn, muted numbing tendrils cascading down, swallowing him whole. There was a rush of something, something like dandelion seeds swarming his head with a clouded sense of energy, like the rushes of the first summer sun, deliriously light and dizzy, warm and washed out, but still so tangible and present. There was a hazy heat gently blossoming at his core, fluttering, rising, falling, like the unsteady wings of a butterfly caught in an updraft, reaching, desperate, volatile, as those same strings wrapped themselves even more around his body, calling, promising, taking control.

Jesse pulled back and delicately kissed the areas around the blood, almost as if he wanted to apologize to Jamie's skin, whispers of his lips brushing past where he had made his mark. His facial hair grazed the lines leading down the other's chest and into his already destroyed shirt, but he never made a move to wipe it off. He left it, like a token, like a badge. He wanted to hold on to it, in any way he could.

Jamie swept his eyes open, unfocused, but aware. Everything around him was spinning, beautiful colors all around swirled together like an impressionist painting, bright, almost neon hues blending, swirling, bleeding, a rainbow smear of light taking over anything that wasn't in front of his face. Long ago there was a part of him that imagined that this was what dying was like, nebulous, distorted, wondrous, going higher, and higher, whatever remains grasping at the unattainable, floating, drifting away...

He felt good. So, so very good.

Jamie tugged at where his thumbs were, bodies crashing as he descended, sloppy kisses falling anywhere he could put them, in him, on him, around him, the want in him rising, the need pushing him further. He took a few wobbly steps back, taking the other along for the ride by his belt, never stopping, still touching, an almost desperate edge to his action. 

He mirrored Jesse's action earlier, and tugged at his shirt, pulling him down with him as he knelt, his other hand coming up from behind, and gently threading his hair, as he guided him down, flat on his back with Jamie cradling his body as if he could and just might break at any second. There was a moment where he paused, lifting his head just slightly, golden eyes blown wide but still curious, studying the face he's seen a thousand times before, roaming, almost reverently, taking him in as if he was something to be savored. There was another moment where his face relaxed and he looked as if he wanted to say something, something careful and thought out, mouth parted slightly as the thought took him, urged him. He could only look on, the words dying on his lips before they were ever spoken. 

He sank again, slowly, almost delicately, kisses coming in tender and shy, sweet, loving presses caressing over his skin, over his cheeks, down his jaw and back up again, before settling once again on his lips, each touch, each graze mercifully patient and cherished.

"Jamie..." Jesse breathed out, his hands sliding up the other's torso, under his shirt, calloused pads of his thumbs marking out every detail in his body. 

"It's alright..." he said, still sheltering, still showering with him with adoration in any way he could, "...I know."

Blood began to pool around them from the body that was only an arm's length away, cooling, permeating into their clothes, slicking whatever was on the ground, ruddy, dark, with the smell of something past its prime lingering just light enough on the air, rust on the tips of their noses and tongue. Jamie carefully slid his good knee between the other's legs, a silent ask among the devoted storm, mismatched hands slowly letting go and coming around, gripping Jesse's in the dark, gathering, pinning them above his head, resolute in the question, but giving in its word. Jesse faintly sighed, eyes closing in the moment, feeling the pressure on his wrists and between his thighs, a sapid surrender in a resistance he could barely hold on to. 

  
"Let me." he said, against Jesse's ear, nuzzling the shell, quick, tiny nips following just on his lobe.

Jesse turned his head into it, mouth parted. Words faltered and fell, as he leaned against the feeling, thrill of unsaid promises racing down his side, ethereal arms wrapping themselves around his core.

  
"Let me." he said again, lower, almost less of an ask, more of a command. He kissed the skin there, plush and languid. 

"J-Jamie..." 

"Slow. Until you're there."

"Jamie..."

"Then bent over. Gripping the sheets. Screaming my name in the pillows."

"Jamie."

  
"Just how you like it."

"Jamie...!" 

His head snapped up on that one, a mix of confusion and concern flashing over his face. "...no?" he asked, tone a little higher, almost as if he was unsure, spell momentarily broken.

Jesse made his whole face squint, trying to do the same. "'S not you, darlin'." he said, trying to sound encouraging, "The floor..."

"The...floor?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

"It's...hard."

"It's...hard?"

Jesse nodded.

"Oh, for fucks sake!"

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a fun filler piece while I worked on other stories, but it kind of snowballed into this. Sometimes, I don't know when to stop. Ha ha. 
> 
> The title of this work comes from a Calabrese song of the same name. Go give it a listen. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. :)


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